


Undone

by baethoven



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, M/M, More emotional than kinky, OFC - Freeform, Somehow I messed up a fic about panties, Too many feelings not enough butt sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 18:28:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6716242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baethoven/pseuds/baethoven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo Ren finds an old footlocker at the back of Hux's closet, and he's dying to know what sort of secrets his General is hiding in it.</p><p>Fill for the Kylux 2016 May Exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gundamoocow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gundamoocow/gifts).



In the back of his closet, behind neatly pressed uniforms and polished boots, is a plain footlocker filled with Hux's personal effects that are too precious to keep about his room. He has been in possession of this clunky, outdated box since he was just a cadet. It has followed him through every promotion, aboard every ship and base he has ever been stationed at, accumulating trinkets and letters as the years pass. It sits there, black as night and collecting specs of dust in starry swirls.

Kylo stumbles on it one day when Hux is in the 'fresher, washing away their intermixed come and blood. Kylo is a snoop of the worst sorts, and he itches to go through Hux's belongings as he does his mind, carding his fingers through the finely pressed uniforms and folded socks with care to leave no trace of his presence, hoping to garner new secrets from Hux, unawares. It is harder to read his mind than others sometimes, where things are finely compartmentalized, organized like a great library, with years of practice and systematic in a way that eludes a layman such as Ren, whose own mind is a tempest. He learns nothing new from the hanging garments, until he parts them like a veil and finds the footlocker, its matte finish absorbing the bright closet light like a black hole, distorting and bending it, drawing Kylo's focus in.

He touches the locker, and he swears he feels an electric buzz from it, the Force vibrating in the scant few atoms that exist between his flesh and the cold metal of the box, enticing him further. Kylo has half a mind to will the box open, to smash the hidden locking mechanism and tear the contents, until an irritated huff comes from behind him.

"What are you doing in my closet?" Hux asks. Ren, obscured by his coats and dress shirts, turns around to look at Hux. He stands there, illuminated by the light of the 'fresher, his orange hair gold at the edges from the glow, and not for the first time Kylo thinks he looks radiant. When he is nude, bloodied tracts stark where Kylo had clawed at him, bruises purple crescent moons and cheeks still spotting a delicate pink flush, Kylo feels his bones soften and his hunger pique. He adores every one of Hux's freckles, the only constellations Ren can conjure behind the dark of his eyelids. Kylo is not dispositioned towards romantics, but Hux commands such an adoration and devotion from him that Kylo has torn at the flesh over his chest, cracked his ribs and grasped his heart with his hands, squeezing and pumping to push the sludge of love through each ventricle and out the arteries.

"Uh," Kylo stutters, because Hux is magnificent and pinning him in place with his sharp stare.

Hux shifts a hand onto his hip (where Kylo had nipped at the rounded bone protruding, rolled the flesh between his teeth until the blood pooled red just beneath the skin, Hux keening like a wounded animal and grasping at Ren like a lifeline), and shakes his head.

"Stop going through my stuff, you pest."

"I found a box back here," Kylo says, forcing the words out from his dry mouth. It would not do to have Hux so aware of how moved he is in this moment.

Hux's face flits from irritated to violently horrified, and he hurries across the room and pulls Ren from the closet by his shoulders. Ren could resist, anchor in place and let Hux futilely pull and sway around him, but he enjoys being led by Hux, so he goes and stumbles flat onto his ass, the tiles of the floor cold against his naked skin.

"That's private!" Hux snaps, placing his palms atop the box.

"What's in it?" Ren asks, irritated by how young his voice sounds, a child asking to go through a parents room.

"Things," Hux replies.

"Things," Ren intones back, unconvinced.

"Things you should not and _will not_ be privy to."

Hux's panicked defensiveness is intriguing, so Kylo reaches his mind out to Hux's, brushes up delicately at the papery place where his conscious is, feels the embossed texture of anxiety and shame.

"Stop that," Hux barks, glaring at him. "You aren't allowed in there."

"I'm not allowed only if I get _caught,_ " Kylo reminds him, because that much is true. It is a game between them, to see how far Kylo can pry before Hux notices.

"Why are you so worried if I see inside?" Ren asks.

"You mean the box?" Hux asks.

Ren nods, though that is not exactly what he asked.

Hux cannot seem to find the words to reply, so he drags the footlocker out and places it in front of Ren. He sits cross legged on the other side, the position disposing of Hux's years and making him look younger than he has the right to be. He sighs heavily and props a bony elbow on his thigh, before he hunches over and rests his regal chin upon an upturned palm. He traces the rounded edges of the locker with a single finger of his other hand.

The box is an enigma, a puzzle that Ren must solve, and he senses brute force and insistence will not open something so securely shut. He could tear through it, like he has to Hux's many interrogation rooms, but that is not what he wants; Ren wants the locker to open willingly, it's innards revealed freely and without hesitation, a soul barren.

He tries for soft. "You know nothing you have hidden could horrify me," Ren says. It is a question, though not voiced as one. Hux has murdered millions, has ruled with a cruel hand and in moments when his neatly tended rage became overgrown has used Ren's body and personhood to exertion.

Hux grimaces and shifts his legs, and Ren reaches out again and feels numbness and cold tile on the surface of Hux's thoughts.

"I know that," Hux says, "but I'm not one for sentiment, or at least I like to think I'm not."

Ren nods, because this he knows too. Save for his orange tabby cat and Ren, he gives off an air that he holds no attachments. In the world of the First Order, it is a smart strategy, lest these things be used against a person. Ren is an exception because he is far too powerful to be collateral in someone else's ambition; and no one would bother coming for a cat.

"But some of these things may make me seem weak," Hux says, and he shyly casts his eyes down, vulnerable in a way Kylo has never seen him before. He has made this man come, rocked back in forth on his cock while Hux had gripped his hips like a vice, and yet he has never quite drawn back the guard Hux always wears.

"You will never seem weak to me," Ren says, and he means it. Hux may not have command of the Force, but he has such command and control of himself that all of Ren's strengths seem to melt away.

Hux snorts, a dismissive noise at Ren's 'emotional trite' and shakes his head. He removes his elbow from his thigh and frames the box with his hands (Ren resents the red mark left behind, viscerally aware of its unwelcome presence among the purposeful bruises Ren had created - it disturbs the aesthetic of his work). His hands press at an unseen latch, and four red lights glow at the side of the lid. Hux taps his fingers against the lights in a code that varies by finger pattern and rhythm, and Ren would memorize it if he wanted but now that Hux is opening it for him, he has no need. There is a whirring sound of gears and then the box softly clicks. Hux takes a deep, steadying breath.

"Promise not to mock me?" he asks.

Ren nods, "Of course."

Hux lifts the lid, and Ren leans over to look within.

The insides are a surprise to Ren; letters written in paper, small memory drives, slumbering holovid projectors, rocks and dried flora, stray mechanical parts and old tools whose useful years have passed. Hux dips a hand within and pulls out a paper book, an ancient thing with yellowing pages that softly smells of long dead skin and dust; Kylo reads the cover and finds it to be a book of traditional Nabooian poetry.

Hux's items lay within the box, strewn about organs in disorder, and Hux looks wrenched open as he stares inside.

"May I?" Kylo asks, gesturing his large hand towards the box, and Hux nods in assent.

Kylo grabs out a projector and clicks it on, and the room is awash with the colors of the picture; a family portrait, a towering man with orange hair, neatly trimmed and militaristic in styling, standing behind a seated, beautiful woman with tumbling curls, looking far too young for the small child swaddled in white against her chest, tiny head and face peeking out.

Hux clears his throat, "My father and mother." The _and me_ is left unspoken.

Ren sets it aside and picks up some of the old letters, written in beautiful looping script.

"My mother liked to hand write," Hux explains. "She thought the discipline of penmanship could fortify one's character."

An Imperial insignia, a patch that would be sewn on an officer's uniform, is the next item his fingers touch.

"My fathers," Hux says sourly.

He keeps up his commentary as Ren feels each item in the locker, flickering on photos of Hux through the years, listening as Hux tells him where each plant is from. He lays the objects of the box around them like a shrine, building in circumference as Hux murmurs out his secrets.

Finally, Ren's fingers catch on fabric, and he pulls it out of the locker, intrigued at the change. Hux colors a bright scarlet as Ren unfurls the cloth.

"Those, uh, aren't mine," Hux stammers.

In his palms are a pair of undergarments, brightly colored and silken to the touch. They are almost sheer, so _thin_ , and Ren feels the warmth spread from his fingers and infuse in the fibers. It is brightly colored, green as emeralds and leaves, and somewhere within Ren conjures the image of a lake house, with cascading hills that climb high into the sky, covered in a sea of green, surrounding a shimmering lake sparkling like diamonds below. He sees a man and a woman in his head, bent close but separate, two magnets resisting against their universal attraction, the laws that are written for them to collide.

"So if they're not yours," Ren asks, "whose are they?"

Hux rubs his hands against his eyes and hides his furious blush. "A woman I knew."

"A woman?" Ren asks, genuinely surprised.

"Yes," Hux says, and he drops his hands in his lap to glare at Ren, "Though I detest the word, you could say she was my first lover."

Ren nods and considers this. He knew he was not Hux's first (though Hux had been his), evident by his finesse, his confidence in winding Ren up and undoing him. But Ren has never considered that Hux's preference were broader than himself.

"You kept a pair of her panties?" Ren asks, trying to understand.

"No, it's worse than that," Hux says, "She gave them to me."

"So they _are_ yours."

Ren looks down at the undergarments in his hands and an image comes to him unbridled; a woman with short dark hair and large hips, meeting Hux after a shift when he was nothing but a lieutenant- slipping him a sleek box with the underwear resting in a bed of cream tissue paper.

"She had scheduled leave," Hux begins, and Kylo can see the picture through Hux's mind, his mental barriers slowly dropping and broadcasting her soft body and hard personality, the way she would be cruel in her affection, paint and dress Hux up like her doll. "She went to Naboo for a month to visit family, though we all knew that was a lie. No one in the Order has family from the Core worlds. Why would any of us join if we did?"

"What was her name?" Ren asks, but he can already taste the syllables on his tongue.

"Cara," he says. "We met after academy, in our first stations. She went on leave and then returned with all these garments, none of them regulation, and I chastised her for being frivolous and buying clothes for herself that she'd never get to wear."

"But they weren't for her," Ren continues.

"No, they weren't," Hux says, looking at the floor in the hopes of being swallowed up by it. "She would dress me up sometimes, put me in her pretty things and do with me as she liked."

"I never thought of you as the submissive type," Ren says. In all their encounters, Hux is always dominating, always pushing Ren to his limits. Beyond Ren's need to be subjugated and commanded by Hux, he assumed it was just how Hux preferred it.

"I'm not," Hux replies, "But Cara was a very persuasive partner. And I was more than eager to please her."

"What happened to her?" Ren asks.

Hux shrugs his shoulders, one dipping lower than the other, and grimaces. "She was stationed elsewhere, and I rose in the ranks. By the time our paths crossed again, I outranked her and the opportunity for fraternization was gone."

"But you kept this?"

Hux smiles through his sour expression, rueful despite himself, and says, "I got rid of all the other things she bought me; they were garish and tacky. But those are made from Naboo silk, handstitched so she said, and I just could not bright myself to throw them away."

 _Sentiment_ echoes in Ren's head, and he warms at the idea of Hux keeping beautiful things hidden and for himself.

"Can I see you in them?" he asks. Hux pales at the question and then embarrassment colors him red.

"Absolutely not!" Hux yells, and snatches the panties from Ren's hands.

"Why not?"

"Because!" Hux sputters. "It's unbecoming of a person in my position."

"General," Kylo drawls, enjoying the flicker of irritation that always pulses out from Hux when he missuses his title, "I've seen you in enough unbecoming positions than not."

Hux rubs his fingers along scalloped edges of the waistband, contemplating. His anxiety and arousal intermix and permeate the room, twisting and pulling around Ren. Hux thinks of Kylo Ren on his knees and mouthing at his erection through the silken fabric, spit and precome leaving dark patches of green, of Ren worshiping him like Cara once did when she saw him trussed up in her gifts. Ren broadcasts his desires, tingeing the picture with his own lust and doubling the desire Hux feels. He lets out a shaky breath and looks towards the knight.

“I haven’t done this in years,” he insists, “and I don’t intend on making a habit of it.”

Ren nods, and watches as Hux stands up on shaking legs. He’s half hard already as he bends over and lops one ankle through a hole, and then the other. The whisper of fabric drawing against Hux’s skin lights Ren up. Hux must have been a slighter man those years ago when Cara purchased it for him, because the panties cut into him slightly, taut against his hips and strained over his cock. Ren cannot imagine someone so fastidiously dedicated to draping Hux in beautiful things to get his measurements wrong, and Ren flushes with the heady knowledge that he gets to see Hux’s realized potential, his strong body filled out with muscle and strength. The green of the fabric is striking against his skin, which looks ghostly white in the pale starlight shining in through the viewport, and the orange hair on his navel and his freckles contrast starkly.

Hux is beautiful, and it’s all Ren can do to remain seated there on the floor, surrounded and among Hux’s favorite things.

“Well?” Hux asks, voice breathy and face shameful.

“You look gorgeous,” Ren says, “May I touch you?” 

“You may,” Hux grants.

Ren crawls on the ground towards him, careful to avoid the rocks and papers, until he is below Hux kneeling. He takes his palms and places them on Hux’s thighs, both to steady and be steadied, and he tilts his body downwards, and kisses the tops of Hux’s feet. Hux gasps, picturing in his head a heavy crown on his brow and Ren dressed in his cloaks and bloodied from battle. Ren groans at the image and for once Hux does not chastise him for the invasion. Ren cuts a path from Hux’s bony ankles and muscled calves, lapping at the divots of his knee, and licking at the raised welts and scratches on his thighs, tasting the ghosts of blood, until he has finally found the delta where legs and torso meet, covered in the pasture green of the panties. Hux twists his fingers into Ren’s locks and draws him forward. Ren fulfils Hux’s early thought and begins to mouth at Hux’s erection, inhaling the musky scent of salt and sweat.

“Ah, Ren,” Hux gasps, unable to articulate his thoughts through the feeling of Ren’s insistent tongue against the fabric; thoughts like _it never felt this good before, why aren’t I more ashamed, I feel so_ powerful.

 _You are powerful,_ Ren sends back as his fingers inch beneath the fabric and to the tender skin of Hux’s hips, _look how you undo me._

He sees himself through Hux’s mind, debauched, cock hanging heavy between his thighs and leaking all over the floor, and he moans with Hux, their timbre different but cadence matching, and together they are conquering and claimed.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [gundamoocow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/gundamoocow/profile) as part of the Kylux Exchange. Their request was "Hux secretly wears very much non-regulation high quality lacy underwear. Kylo finds out. This can be as explicit or non-explicit as you like." Somehow I took this and made it into sentimental garbage. I hope you like it, friend (and sorry if you don't, I know it doesn't entirely fit within your request!)
> 
> Find me over on my [tumblr](celloing.tumblr.com) and talk some Kylux with me.


End file.
